


Impolitely Homosexual

by CastielsCarma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Come Eating, Dirty Deeds, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Flirting, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pining, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28913577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma
Summary: The new colleague at Dean's work was driving him up the walls. Sure, he was hot at hell (Dean was not lusting after him) but he was also an asshole with an attitude. That didn't stop Dean from wanting him but it wasn't like Cas was gay. He wasn't. Totally not. Nothing would come of this.Then one day, Dean sees Cas drinking from a mug. "I'm not interested in being polite or heterosexual." What could that mean?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 26
Kudos: 155





	Impolitely Homosexual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_communist_unicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_communist_unicorn/gifts).



> I wrote this thanks to a post in a Destiel group, where someone posted a mug with the words "I'm not interested in being polite or heterosexual." <3 
> 
> I still enjoy writing about these two idiots and I hope you enjoy reading about them. I appreciate all your feedback, comments, and kudos on this work. It means the world to me. As always, thank you <3

Dean wondered if he could strangle Cas, just a little (it would even be worth the HR-hassle).

His gaze flitted to the folders on the desk. Folders that Cas had unceremoniously dumped on his desk.

Dean's desk was in order. His files were in order. His project was in order. He was human order incarnate (at work at least).

“What's this?” Dean said and if he purposefully sounded gruff, with an edge to his voice; well, he was not sorry.  
  


“The Rebar project. It's wrong.” If Dean's voice was rough, Cas' voice was sharp as steel.

It's was not fucking wrong. He'd crunched the numbers three times, everything added up. It was supposed to be like that. Dean looked up and stared into Cas' – Castiel's – eyes (what the fuck kind of name was Castiel anyway?). His eyes were a nice blue, like the sky. Hell, who was he kidding? They looked hot as hell, the kind of blue that reminded him of open skies and endless possibilities in bed and outside the bed.

Too bad Cas was impolite, downright rude. An asshole at times, really.

Dean pushed the folders to the side, still starring at Cas. He remembered to blink. “You're wrong.” Asshole.

Cas crossed his arm and it should've been forbidden. The white fabric stretched over his bicep and whoever thought up the concept of white being the color of innocence surely hadn't met Cas and his thick arms, perfectly sculpted bicep and fabric hugging him. It almost looked obscene.

Dean's cock twitched at the thought of obscene things. Of Cas doing obscene things. With Dean, of course.

“I'm not wrong.” Cas' voice had lost some edge. Probably the sheer sexiness of him had dulled some of the sharpness.

Dean sighed and ignored the sudden urge to just touch Cas' arm. To feel the softness of his shirt, and underneath, the hard, firm muscles playing as he moved his arm.

That arm pressed over his throat as Cas fucked him against the wall.

That arm pinning him down so he couldn't move.

That arm, muscles flexing as Cas jerked himself off.

“Look, I went over it three fu – uh, three times before handing it to you. And I double-checked Mark's numbers.”

Cas ground his jaws. “Do it a third time. Please.”

Dean exhaled harshly again. Better that than rolling his eyes (he would not do that, he was a damn professional). “Alright. I'll do it again. I'll just finish this up, so after lunch.”

Cas looked at him again, uncrossing his arms. “Now.” With that, he turned and left.

Dean glared after Cas. Fucking asshole. That thought immediately made him check out Cas' ass as he walked away.

Cas was wearing a pair of gray suit pants that hugged his ass in all the right places. And it was a fine ass. He shook his head in frustration.

Dean's cock stirred and he gritted his teeth. He was _not_ having a crush on the new co-worker. It was not his fault that Cas was built like a damn Greek god, with thick thighs, and piercing blue eyes and a voice that could make you come on the– Dean exhaled and tried not to slam his fingers too hard on the keyboard.

He was so screwed (and not in a good way).

  
  


  
Dean uttered all the curses he knew and some he didn't know as he looked at the numbers again. This Mark was a douche. How he could've missed this was beyond Dean.

He looked up as someone cleared his throat. And of course, it had to be Cas “Sex incarnate on two legs” Novak that entered his office.

“Hi, Dean. Have you made some progress on the report?” His gravelly voice was still hot as fuck but Dean could tell he was trying to behave.

“Yeah, you could say that.” He shook his head and leaned back in his chair, swiping a hand over his face. “Did he ever check how long the transport from China takes?”

Cas' eyebrows pulled down thoughtfully. “Isn't that the first thing to– “

“Six weeks. And how long does the battery's internal power source last?”

Cas' eyes widened as he realized the answer. “Five weeks. Are you telling me that the first thing we have to do as the product arrives at port, is to charge it?”

Dean bit his lip. He tried not to stare too long at Cas and his eyes, blue as the sky. “Uh, I wish that was the case.”

“What do you mean?”

“I called Benny, just to double-check. It's dead.”

Cas folded his arms again and Dean tried not to squirm. Jesus.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

Cas' deep voice brought him back from his musings. Fuck, he had to get a grip on himself. He'd rather grip Cas' cock but yeah... he was not about to chance getting fired over his mind launching into the hyperspace of sexual fantasies as soon as Cas spoke. Besides, he was probably not into guys anyway.

“Yeah, yeah, just thinking about” – how he'd want to close the door and kiss Cas stupid – “ kiss, uh, kismet. How maybe it was kismet that you gave me the report.”

Cas gave him an odd look. “How so?”

Dean's hand reached to fiddle with the collar of his shirt but he dropped it as soon as he noticed. “The battery is dead.  _Dead._ Like six feet under dead, we won't be able to recharge it. With the new specs, the battery only lasts five weeks...”

Cas shook his head. “You're telling me that Mark – how could he make such a mistake? Hasn't he been doing this for years? ”

“Oh, not Sheppard. The other one.”

Cas groaned. “Fucking figures.” He stopped himself, his eyes darting to Dean. His voice was back to being composed. “I'm sorry, that was very unprofessional of me.”

Dean licked his lips. He was picturing Cas bending him over the desk and fucking him senseless. Now,  _that_ would've been unprofessional.  “It's fine, I won't tell.”

“Don't ask, don't tell.” Cas sounded amused but his eyes seemed penetrating (not the penetrating Dean had in mind though) as they rested on him. Dean tried to still the wave of pure desire that rushed over him. He needed to get laid. This was ridiculous. “Thank you... _Dean_.” 

Walking over to Dean's desk, Cas grabbed the folders. “I appreciate you taking the time to do this.” He smiled, and for once it was warm.

“Not like I had a choice...” His stomach fluttered as he said that and his mind unhelpfully provided a number of non-office scenarios that would go very well with those set of words. Dresscode casual. Very casual.

Cas paused briefly, his eyes narrowing. Then his lips turned upwards, his smile turning bigger. “No, you didn't.” He walked out and Dean wished Cas could've walked out of his mind, walked out of his damned heart.

Lunch was usually a hectic affair but for once, Dean decided to walk the few minutes it took down to the company lunch area. Sure, he could do the usual and grab some take-out. His favorite taco place had a special this week, or he could just order his go-to Phad Thai but the thought of sitting alone at his desk and eating seemed claustrophobic suddenly.

Dean nodded at a colleague as he passed her desk.

Nobody waited at the elevators. Dean glanced at his watch. He was late and had managed to avoid rush hour. That suited him fine. He could still have company – honestly, just the buzz of people talking and milling around would do – and that might be the cure for what had occupied his mind all fucking morning. 

Castiel Novak; the man was infuriating.

He had just walked into the company one day like he owned the place, well, he had been  _hired._ And while Dean was grateful to get anyone they could onboard – they were seriously understaffed – he had not counted on the guy to be that good at his job. Not to mention hotter than  Amon Amarth – the mountain, not the band.

Rice and a mild Tikka Masala were on the menu. Dean grabbed a baguette and a cup of company coffee. It was more watered down than Sam's so-called coffee. If it wasn't strong enough to punch you in the face when you took a sip, what even was the point? Might as well be chugging water instead (and who the hell drank water for fun)?

Nonetheless, Dean would drink it. Maybe he should start bringing a thermos to work with his own damn coffee.

He glanced over at the tables and found a secluded spot in the corner. Perfect.

Placing the tray on the table, he sat down and tried the Masala. It was no fireworks in his mouth but it wasn't bad either. Could have used some cilantro and more kick to the sauce. The rice was on the mushy side but by now Dean's stomach was growling. He was not too picky.

As he was sipping on his coffee between bites of food, a feeling came over him. It was the primal warning of hairs raising at the back of his neck. He had the distinct feeling of being watched. Dean took a break and looked out over the lunch area again.

He didn't see anything that should cause him alarm. Fork ready to go, he swept his gaze one last time over the tables and people when he noticed him. O bliquely opposite of him – really just a table away divided by a pathway – Cas occupied a seat, eating his own lunch. He had company, a guy named Ishim that worked in marketing (voluntarily that was). 

Dean looked a Cas a few moments longer and then paid attention to his meal again. It couldn't have been Cas that had been the reason for his neck hair trying to escape?

Glancing up again, Dean looked straight into Cas' eyes.

It was absurd but when Cas' eyes landed on him Dean stopped breathing for a few seconds. Who the fuck could have that much intensity just with one look?  _No, you didn't._ The memory of Cas' earlier words snaked back into his consciousness and arousal punched him in the gut. 

Fucking hell, he'd have to sneak off to the restroom and jerk one out, like a damn teenager just to be able to function and do his job.

Cas nodded at him and smiled, scratch that,  _smirked_ – it was a damn smirk – before turning his attention back to Ishim. 

Dean took another gulp of coffee and almost burned his tongue on the too-hot liquid (like he needed any more reason to be tongue-tied around Cas).

He needed to leave. He regretted his decision not to eat lunch alone. Dean's desire to escape the intrusive thoughts of Cas had led him straight to the man himself. Sort of.

Ishim leaned over and whispered something to Cas and he nodded before picking up a cup. He sipped slowly and Dean almost choked on a piece of chicken when he saw the words flashing in neon blue on the front of the mug.  _I'm not interested in being polite or heterosexual._

_Heterosexual._

Grabbing his mug, Dean gobbled down some coffee but that still didn't stop him from coughing a few times.

Cas looked at him once before paying attention to Ishim again.

Dean walked back to the office in a daze. He sank down in his chair and allowed the swirling thoughts to consume him.

What did it all mean?

It meant that Cas had received some goddamn novelty cup from a brother or cousin and decided to keep it. But why would he bring it to work and proclaim to the world that he was an impolite jerk and... not straight?

Dean was out.

Everyone knew he was bi and he hadn't really had any issues with people nor had he received any crap from anyone (he didn't include his dad in that category, because fuck John). Chuck wasn't in the accepting group either; him being a bigoted asshole was one of his more pleasant features. He seemed to have a thing for Dean especially (not to mention the guy was a fucking _creep)._

So Dean understood that Cas maybe was out, that he was proud of it (as he should be). But it wasn't as if Dean had enough difficulty acting professionally around Cas, now that he knew that Cas was not-straight, all the fantasies and daydreams about him would intensify tenfold. Professional the fuck who, he didn't know her.

Fuck, just the knowledge that Cas was into guys too, sent his heartbeat racing and blood filled his cock.

Groaning, Dean abandoned his desk and walked over to the restroom.

Cock in his hand, practically throbbing, Dean stroked himself to a quick orgasm. His mouth was shut as warmth flooded over him and come shot out of him.

Dean masturbated like a man possessed for four days straight (hah!),  _at least_ three times each day. 

On Thursday evening Dean thought his hand was going to fall off. His cock didn't care. Dean rubbed a thumb over his head, squeezing hard, and gritted his teeth as he came hard, cum landing on his stomach.

On Friday, just to be safe, Dean got up extra early. He removed the plug he'd inserted the night before. He jerked off in the shower before heading to work.

Fridays workwise were for the most part, not any more different than any other day of the week.

Luckily for Dean, he'd had a big presentation the day before and today would be – if not calm – then at least an opportunity for him to breathe again before chaos pulled at him again after the weekend.

He'd been avoiding Cas every chance he could, which was ironic since his body fucking yearned to be close to him (Cas' dick in his ass- kind of close). But Dean trusted his body less than he trusted people calling patties made of soybeans burgers right now, which said a lot.

But for once Fortuna smiled at him because not only was the big presentation done, there was also some kind of company holiday coming up that weekend. They celebrated a century – take or leave a decade – and  _everyone_ was allowed to take a day off on Monday. 

Some (almost everyone) had already clocked out earlier on Friday, meaning that the building was practically deserted. Which suited Dean just fine. It increased his chances of not meeting Cas.

Dean was at the copying machines when it happened (him meeting Cas).

It was as if the very thought summoned Cas forth like some damn sex-demon from the second circle of Hell – only Hell was right here and Cas was his own personal (hot and not in the infernal sense) tormentor.

“Hello, Dean. You're still here?”

Dean nodded. Cas was still wearing his suit jacket, even though most people at the company opted for just a shirt and tie. “Hi. Yeah, just needed to fix this, last-minute paperwork, and then I'm done for the day. Week.” He gestured at the copying machine.

“Mm. It's been hard getting a hold of you. I was also just getting ready to leave.”

There was a pregnant pause that Dean decided to fill with an awkward clearing of his throat. “Been busy. You know how it is (someone please kill him).”

Cas took a few steps forward until he was practically shoulder to shoulder with Dean, then he leaned against the wall and spoke casually. “You have any weekend plans?”

He was planning on watching _Norsemen_ , making a mean pulled beef, sleeping in, and jerking off furiously but he could hardly tell Cas that. “Yeah, just gonna... be home and chill.”

“I see.” Cas' voice held an amused lilt. “Netflix and chill?”

Dean's pulse ratcheted up and he swallowed hard.

What did Cas mean?

Dean couldn't decide if Cas was asking him if he could join him, or if Dean was going to just watch Netflix and chill, or if he was wondering if Dean wanted to _Netflix and_ _chill_.

He didn't have to contemplate an answer because he was saved by the copying machine beeping. “Oh, my papers are done now. I should take care of that.”

Cas stood up from the wall and moved back to make space for Dean. “By all means.”

Walking past Cas was like moving past a wall of fire – he exuded a strange compelling aura that might either warm him or incinerate him – or maybe it was Dean himself that was on fire.

Dean grabbed the papers and tucked them under his arm. He needed an excuse to not leave together with Cas. Just this sad excuse of a conversation was enough proof that Dean was acting like a love-sick fool and he was not ready to embarrass himself further.

“Alright, I'm just gonna go and get some office supplies and then I'll be out. Have a good weekend, Cas.”

Cas looked at him with a peculiar expression on his face but his words were soft-spoken, gentle almost. “You too, Dean.”

Dean turned and opened the door closest to the copying machine.

Closing it behind himself, he exhaled in relief.

Finding the switch on the wall, Dean flicked it with his thumb. Light flooded the space almost as quickly as mortification washed over Dean.

Christ, he wished the Earth would swallow him. He'd walked into the cleaning storage! There were no office supplies here. Instead, the shelves were stocked with soap, latex and disposable gloves, a variety of mops, and other products needed for cleaning.

If he just waited there for a few seconds, maybe Cas would have left already. Why would he stay and wait for Dean?

His hope evaporated as Cas opened the door.

“Dean? You are aware that this is the cleaning closet?”

Dean turned slowly and faced Cas. “Yeah. I mean... no, I wasn't aware that it was uh, cleaning supplies. Wouldn't have walked in here then.” He laughed. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Cas smiled but there was something else burning in his eyes besides simple amusement. Cas took a step forward.

Dean took a step back but stopped when he felt a shelf dig into his back.

Cas licked his lips and if that wasn't almost enough to make Dean groan. He dug his nails into the palm of his hands.

“So,” Cas said all causally while Dean was slowly disintegrating with desire, “are you going to come out of the closet?”

“Already out.” Dean added for clarification, “uh, not the literal one, but you know, metaphorically speaking...”

Cas stopped right in front of Dean.

They were so close that he could feel Cas' chest rise and fall with each breath.

Up close like this, Cas' allure multiplied. He was not just sexy, the bastard was beautiful. Dean noticed that he had salt and pepper hair and the blue of his eyes was just not like the sky. No, it held the vast multitude of the universe, now the blue so dark as to appear black. Yet there was light in there.

Cas seemed to always be surrounded by light in some way (or maybe the storage closet's lightbulb was off-brand).

A smile pulled at Cas' lips. He cooked his head slightly to the side. “Mm. Dean, I have to ask you...”

Cas' voice had dipped lower at the same time that arousal dropped low in Dean's gut.

“Sure, ask me – what are you gonna ask me about?”

“I was having lunch with Ishim today, in the cafeteria and I couldn't help but notice you... noticing me.”

Dean swallowed. “I was actually checking out your coc – cup. Your cup,” (great save there, Winchester).

“My mug?”

Dean's eyes flicked to Cas' lips. They were chapped but full, very kissable. He nodded. “Yeah. Saw that you have a thing for being –“

“ – being?”

“Impolite.”

Cas laughed then, and it was such a shocking sound that Dean couldn't really process why and what was happening. “Do you have a problem with... impoliteness?”

“Nope,” Dean croaked out and why did he sound like he not only swallowed a frog but a whole goddamn army of them?

“Do you have a problem with the second part?” Cas' voice was smooth as silk.

Dean shook his head and pulled a weak smile. “No, I'm bi. Remember?” (This was more embarrassing than that time Rhonda had caught him wearing her panties).

“I do.”

“One last question, if you don't mind?”

Dean almost started laughing, for a dude that was flaunting an “I hate politeness”-mug, Cas sure seemed awful... well polite. “Sure.” He practically breathed out the word. Hell, he wasn't even sure he'd be able to _hear_ Cas' answer. His heart was pounding in his skull, and everything beside Cas seemed dull and muted.

“Where you checking out my...” Cas' looked down at Dean's groin before his eyes flickered back up to Dean's face, “ _cup?_ ”

Saliva, what was that? Dean's mouth was so dry, his tongue was turning into parchment. He shook his head.”

“No?” Cas wondered.

“No,” Dean whispered, and dear Gods, he was turning into a puddle of raw desire right in front of Cas.

“Do you _want_ me, Dean?” Cas said it so casually, that he might as well asked for Dean's favorite pasta dish (fettuccine carbonara with loads of bacon).

Dear Gods, yes!

He looked at Cas, imploring him to just get the damn message but Cas was satisfied just standing there, looking at Dean with his too stunning eyes, his full lips, his entire face just being perfectly hot and beautiful.

Cas quirked an eyebrow.  
  
“Yes,” Dean whispered. “Yes.”

Cas seemed pleased but he didn't make a move. “I'd really need your consent first, though Dean. We are co-workers after all and you have your back against a shelf in the cleaning storage.” He grinned.

“Yes.”

Cas nodded but still didn't make a move. “Yes, what?” The question was soft, like a sweet caress it reached Dean's ears.

“Yes. I want you, Cas. Fuck, I've wanted you ever since – “

He felt Cas' hand in his hair as his fingers gripped tightly. He pulled Dean towards himself and their groins pressed together.

Cas' lips on his mouth, his tongue invading him without mercy killed anything else Dean had to say. Fireworks exploded inside his body and his cock twitched, almost weeping in relief.

Breaking the kiss, Cas smiled but didn't lose his grip on Dean's hair.

“Unbuckle your pants,” Cas practically growled.

Holy shit (times a thousand). Dean's hands flew to do Cas' bidding. Done with the belt, Dean unzipped his pants and let them fall to the floor.

As he was about to pull down his boxers, Cas angled his hand just so. A zing of pain traveled straight from Dean's scalp to his cook. “No, I never said anything about the boxers. Did I?”

“No.” Dean's neurons were short-circuiting. Holy fucking shit.

Cas pulled on Dean's hair again and the pain made him grimace but also made him pull himself together (momentarily). “No?”

“Sir?”

“Good boy.”

Dean's knees almost buckled as he moaned. He had been wrong before. Cas was not a sex-demon, he was a s _ex-god_.

“Tell me again, how you want me?”

It was beyond Dean how Cas was being so fucking composed when Dean was practically experiencing a religious moment in a damn cleaning closet. “Fuck, oh my God. I want you so bad, Cas. I've... ever since I saw you I couldn't keep my eyes off of you, sure you were an asshole before (fuck, maybe that was pushing the honesty part), but Cas just chuckled and let go of his hair.

“Carry on.”

“... uh.”

Cas pulled at Dean's waistband and snaked his hand inside his boxers. “Don't stop.”

“Mm, I, don't... remember, Sir.”

Cas finally took Dean's cock in hand and Dean shamelessly bucked up, thrusting his hips into Cas' hand. “You were talking about an asshole...Don't worry, Dean, we'll deal with _your_ asshole later.”

Dean was on fucking fire. “God, you're, you're – “

“Not God, only me.” Cas flicked his thumb over Dean's head that was leaking pre-come – scatch that – gushing. He could already feel a stain on his boxers but Cas didn't care.

He pressed his thumb harder before sliding his hand down and around Dean's cock.

Dean's entire world narrowed down to Cas' hand and his cock. He was desperate to move, to feel Cas' hand pump his shaft but Cas just stood there. Save, a slight increase in breath, Cas almost seemed unaffected.

Dean's cock twitched at the thought.

“I'm worried, are you having difficulties expressing your _thoughts?_ On the last word, Cas twisted his hand. Dean whimpered and exhaled heavily.

“No... “ Dean stammered. “Please, please, Cas, Sir...” He was not sure what he was asking for.

Cas angled himself, moving his body slightly to the side – still facing Dean – and kept a grip on Dean's cock.

Again, Dean felt Cas' fingers in his hair, spreading across his scalp before he pulled hard.

Dean exhaled harshly but it was Cas' voice against the shell of his ear that caused him to close his eyes. “I think I know how you want me.”

Dean was enthralled. Cas' voice was enchanted; each word lulled him in deeper. He was the prey unable to move as shadows loomed from above. “Fuck, Cas, God... I'm – “

“You want to forget everything else besides this room, my hand on your needy cock, is that so?”

Dean's word was a plea. “Yes.”

“You _want_ to let go, you _want_ to be guided,” – Cas started stroking Dean's cock with a firm steady hand, “you want to be _controlled._ ”

Jesus Christ. Dean grabbed a hold of Cas' bicep and squeezed hard, as if that grip was the only thing keeping him from being pulled under due to sheer, overwhelming lust He not only wanted Cas, he _lusted_ after him.

“Isn't that so?”

Dean could only mumble, anything else was too overwhelming.

More pain spread across his scalp. “I asked you a fucking question.”

(Holy mother of hell, fuck, fuck, fuck, he was _dying_ ) “Yes, Sir.”

Cas swirled a finger around Dean's head, then stroked down again. His hand was slick with Dean's precome. Besides the sound of Dean's heavy breathing, the slap of skin against skin, and Cas' rough voice against Dean's ear nothing else existed.

“I bet you've fantasized about me.”

“Yeah...”

Cas increased the speed as he flamed Dean's arousal and the sound was fucking intoxicating. “I know you have, you dirty boy.”

Dean squeezed Cas' bicep hard; he was so far gone now that he even rested his head on Cas' shoulder.

Cas let go of Dean's hair but his grip on Dean's cock stayed. He was relentless.

His dark whispers fanned parts of Dean's soul he didn't know needed to be aflame. But now, a few embers had turned into a roaring firestorm and Dean wasn't sure he could eradicate them, even if he wanted to. Right now, he'd let the entire world burn.

“You bent over that desk of yours, pants down and ass in the air.” Cas twisted his hand again and Dean jerked. Fuck, he was so close.

“I'd slap your ass hard. No warm-up, no soft strokes, just my hand against your ass until your skin turned red and you whimpered. Only then, would I slow down, allow my hand to move softly over red, burning skin. Your cock would be painfully hard.”

Dean mumbled into Cas' shirt. “Cas, Christ, you're killing me.”

“I'd fuck you like that. You'd be loose, your butt plug discarded in the corner. I'd swipe a finger in your ass crack, just to tease you.”

Dean's balls twitched as Cas' kept his hand on Dean's cock.

“Then I'd slam inside you. You'd still be sore and with each thrust, my cock in your ass would cause your ass cheeks to burn. You'd make too much noise, we can't have that, now can we?”

“No...”

“No. I'd cover your mouth with my hand, use that as leverage as I fucked you hard. Each thrust would send papers flying but you wouldn't care.” Cas was practically growling. “All you wanted, needed, was my cock in your ass, the sensation of being full, the slight burn as I claimed you. My hand in your hair, yanking your head back.”

Dean was on the precipe, hurtling toward his climax. Cas' hand on him was a fucking piston, squeezing his cock with his fingers.

Cas' hand was cursed indeed and his voice was dark magic, dragging him down into oblivion. It was everything Dean needed.

”I'd fuck you until I spilled inside you, filling you up with my cum. You'd want to scream, _need_ to scream but at the same time the horror, the embarrassment of someone maybe entering because you couldn't keep your mouth shut, too excited about cock in your ass would be too much.”

“Oh, fuck.” Cas coaxed out everything from Dean until all he had left to give was his release.

“Now be a good _boy_. Come for me, Dean.”

Fucking hell, was Dean even alive?

Cas' last whisper, his last _order,_ was everything Dean needed. His balls contracted as his entire body went rigid. He squeezed Cas' bicep hard, groaning, as he spilled over Cas' hand.

Cum stained his boxers, his shirt, but Dean didn't care. He was still lost in the power of his orgasm, still thrusting weakly.

Soon, his panting breaths calmed down to measured breathing. He let go of Cas' bicep and leaned back against the shelf. He was at a loss for words.

“Dean. Open your mouth.”

Dean blinked, focusing on Cas again. His eyes were dark with lust; they burned with hunger. Dean opened his mouth, still confused but the confusion cleared up pretty fast.

Cas shoved his fingers inside. The bitter taste of his own cum, the pad of Cas' fingers pressing down on his tongue, and Cas' silky voice ordering him to swallow as he pulled out, sent a buzz of pleasure through him.

Finally done, Dean suddenly felt embarrassed.  
  
“May I kiss you?”

Dean looked at Cas with surprise (what kind of question was that after everything they've done?) but nodded. He'd just given Dean the orgasm of a fucking lifetime. Yeah, he could kiss Dean. “Yeah, yes... Sir?”

Cas smiled as he nodded. “Thank you.” He leaned in close, slowly, as if suddenly afraid that Dean would turn skittish or run away, rejecting him.

Dean didn't move, opening himself to Cas. As their mouths met, Dean exhaled softly.

Cas let out a moan but there was no tongue claiming what he deemed his. No, this was a soft, deep kiss that sent another wave of desire through Dean. It didn't beckon his now dormant arousal, no, this was a kiss that pulled longing out of him.

He was not sure what kind of longing it was, only that he wanted more of it, _craved_ it.

Cas pulled away and it was like a stab to Dean's heart (it didn't make sense, yet there it fucking was). “Pull up your boxers and pants. Time to go home.”

Cas backed away and opened the storage door. Bright light flooded the small space, much sharper than the dull glow of the light bulb.

Dean made himself as proper as he could but his pulse hadn't gotten the memo. He still felt out of breath. Walking out into the corridor felt wrong like the storage closet had been part of a special time and place, that now would be lost forever.

Dean squinted against the light.

“Mm, the light seems too harsh out here.” Cas turned to Dean again, and he still looked enigmatic as fuck, but there was a small, secretive smile playing on his lips. “I have Netflix too.”

Dean blinked and adjusted his shirt. “No shit, I'm impressed.”

“I know. Was wondering if you wanted to come over this weekend?”

Dean closed the storage door and they started walking towards the exit, leisurely (which was fucking wild because that had been the hottest sexual encounter in Dean's life and he wanted to fucking jump with joy).

“I might.”

“If you're not busy, of course.”

Dean almost scoffed. He wasn't busy and if he'd been, he would've made time in a heartbeat. “For what, Netflix and chill?” He licked his lips as he looked at Cas, not even bothering to hide his grin. He was fucking gorgeous.

“Good.” Cas flashed him a smile. “And no, no Netflix. I have a _cup_ I'd like to show you.”

Dean burst out laughing.

He couldn't wait for the weekend.


End file.
